


A Whiter Shade of Pale

by disillusionist9



Series: Choose Dare [36]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Diagon Alley, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Marauders' Era, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7930594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disillusionist9/pseuds/disillusionist9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble #36 of 100 | As a start up reporter the first few articles can be a bore, but Rita runs into someone much more interesting in Diagon Alley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Whiter Shade of Pale

A crack of bubble gum broke the emotional tension building outside the storefront of Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"An excellent account, to be sure, Mister Horsham." Rita assiduously wrote in her journal, heedless of the trauma written across her subject's face.

"It's Harship, mum." The man muttered uncertainly, turning his bowler round in his fingers, stopping now and again to worry at the stitching around the edges. He found he couldn't quite meet the reporter's gaze, her green eyes regarding him sharply each time he tried.

Rita waved her hand holding the quill in an agitated flourish. "Of course it is, Mister Horsewhip. But what happened next? Did the boy seem to know the man? Were there illicit dealings between them, here, in front of your shop, in broad daylight?"

"I've told you all I know, Miss Skeeter," Harship replied, his voice losing force and volume with each turn of his hat.

"I'm _sure_ if you find anything else worth notice, you'll send me an owl immediately?"

Her smile could melt butter, so warm and sweet, with a voice to match. It made his teeth hurt with its sweetness. He'd lost his voice completely, nodding in defeat as he stumbled back into his store.

The moment the man was out of her sight, Rita stuffed her quill and notepad into her leather shoulder bag. Three more decent stories and she would get the promotion that would earn her a dragonhide bag. Or maybe an assistant to carry whatever bags she needed. Grumbling under her breath at the cageyness of shopkeepers, especially as disappearances or missing persons reports were printed more often in the _Prophet_.

Fortescue's ice cream was the best in England, but Rita clutched at her mug of black coffee as covetously as any child around her with mint chocolate chip. Sitting off to the side she risked pulling a little tin from her blazer pocket. A slim cigarette rolled from the metal with a soft _snick_. Dropping the sweet and delicate facade, she stuck it between her lips and brought her wand up to the tip.

The clink of a Zippo was at the end of the cigarette before her wand tip. Following the line of the hand and arm proffering the light, Rita held her hand up to her eyes to better view the young man.

"Tastes better with a real lighter," he said.

Rita saw a flash of bright teeth before the spark made smoke curl in front of her eyes. Taking a leisurely drag, Rita leaned back in her porch chair, her arm resting on the short fence separating the customers from the rest of the Alley.

"You're one of the Black boys," she said after a few more drags and artful smoke rings. Elegant could not brush the surface of the boy, perhaps almost a man, across from her, poshly leaning against the fence and hair tousled _just so_. His leather jacket gave him away. "Sirius Black."

"You remember, then?" Sirius drew a paper pack from his jacket pocket, a Muggle brand if she wasn't mistaken.

As he lit his own, she cocked her head to the side, regarding him with a lingering once over. She let her eyes rest on his for several moments, and was pleased to see him lean towards her in anticipation. "McGonagall's office?"

Sirius smirked. "Not my best moment."

"Memorable, nonetheless."

"True," Sirius nodded, flicking the remnants of his cigarette towards a waste bin. He turned his gaze towards her, and she got the distinct impression he'd been planning this moment, but was choking. His gaze was intensely focused on her lips for a little too long.

Delicately, she vanished the butt remaining from her own cigarette, standing to leave her empty coffee mug on the table. "It was certainly a...pleasure, Mister Black."

"Sirius," he barked out, a little too eagerly. Even with his leather jacket, torn black jeans, and overall hoodlum attitude, he still held out his arm automatically to assist her through the low iron gate. Rita caught his wince at the volume of his voice as his face turned a bit paler rather than red with embarrassment.

"Sirius," she repeated, tasting his name on her tongue, rolling it around like the first sip of red wine. She accepted his proffered arm. Perhaps if she stayed with him a moment longer, the boy would regain his courage and earnestly try to court her, even if just for the night.


End file.
